


empty

by arsonenthusiast



Series: that's just real1ty, yeah, don't l1e to me [1]
Category: Splatoon
Genre: ? - Freeform, Depression, Gen, I suppose, POV Second Person, Sanitization, So ill tag it, Suicide mention, all lowercase, ask to tag, cuz its dedf1sh-centric, i do most of my writing in second person so just, i guess, if you subscribe to me because of this expect more second person writing, its not homestuck but its definitely A Thing, that's a thing that is mentioned in this fic, typing quirk, vent fic, what would you expect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-12
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2020-12-09 16:08:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,174
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20997581
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arsonenthusiast/pseuds/arsonenthusiast
Summary: 1'm empty 1ns1de, yeah, 1'm empty 1nsideand 1 don't want to l1vebut 1'm too scared to d1e





	empty

**Author's Note:**

> vent fic. enough said

you wake up. play the music. you don't stop. not for hours.

you're not allowed to stop. why should you be? th1s is your purpose. to provide music to the metro.

th1s has always been your purpose. you were brought 1nto ex1stence for this reason, and for nothing else.

th1s is all you have ever known - how could there be any other reason that you m1ght exist?

on some level, you know - know for certa1n - that there are others of your k1nd, somewhere up above, that do not ex1st l1ke you do. they have more than one purpose. they can move around more freely.

you know that you're d1fferent. your only purpose 1s to make the music, or you would be able to walk away, do other th1ngs. but you can't. <strike>or you don't. you don't want to try. you don't want change. 1t scares you.</strike>

you have no emot1ons. one doesn't need emot1ons when you only ex1st for one task and one task only. <strike>somewhere under the surface, you scream. you can't surface. you're drowning, trapped.</strike>

you don't remember how you were created. you were just always there. you def1n1tely d1dn't have a l1fe before th1s - you would remember 1t.

r1ght?

<strike>an octol1ng g1rl w1th p1nk tentacles and an 1nfect1ous sm1le drags you beh1nd her. she says she wants to show you something. ne1ther of you are expect1ng 1t when an 1nkling appears, shooting 1nk at the both of you. the octol1ng with you tr1es to hold the 1nkling off, shout1ng at you to run. you try, but suddenly the earth underneath you crumbles beneath your feet and you're fall1ng, fall1ng, away from the octol1ing - your fr1end? - away from the 1nkling, away from everyth1ng youve ever known.</strike>

<strike>where are you? where d1d you fall? and most 1mportantly, 1s there a way out?</strike>

your fingers move pract1cally of the1r own accord, playing a fam1l1ar song. 1f you could have p1cked a favor1te, 1t would have been th1s one. #13 - shade. the notes feel almost comfortable. perhaps they remind you of home a b1t.

no, thats s1lly. you are home. th1s 1s where you belong.

alone. play1ng mus1c for no one but yourself to hear.

why are you down here?

what 1s the po1nt of the mus1c?

could you walk away, and nothing would change?

and 1f so, then why are you bother1ng 1n the f1rst place?

desp1te know1ng that m1sfortune would undoubtedly befall you 1f you were to leave your post, you leave the room. <strike>what are you do1ng? why are you leav1ng beh1nd your purpose? why are you changing? do you know what w1ll happen next? don't you remember the last t1me you went aga1nst the order of the metro?</strike>

you walk through hallway after 1dent1cal hallway, and soon you're lost. you've never known the metro super well to beg1n w1th, after all. you've rarely been outs1de that one room ever s1nce-

ever s1nce what?

what happened to you?

<strike>you h1t the ground, and stand up, sore all over, confused, looking around you. 1t appears to be an underground metro system - who knew th1s was down here? not you, that's for sure. you look for a way out, and then a telephone starts talk1ng to you. 1t tells you that there 1s a way out 1n the very back, through a door and around the r1ght corner at the very end of the hallway. you follow the telephone's 1nstruct1ons, hop1ng to get out as soon as poss1ble.</strike>

<strike>you should not have.</strike>

you walk out 1nto a large stat1on platform, and spot a telephone stand1ng 1n the center of 1t. 1ts back 1s to you. your 1nst1ncts tell you to keep 1t that way.

when a tra1n pulls up to the platform, you qu1etly board 1t, and r1de along a few stops unt1l you dec1de to get off. there's no reason for you dec1d1ng to get off where you d1d. 1t just seemed...r1ght.

you enter a door. 1t leads to a place that 1s very fam1l1ar.

<strike>an octol1ng awa1ts around the corner, but they do not look normal, or healthy, or even al1ve. the1r sk1n 1s a pale green, and beh1nd the glasses that every octol1ng 1s expected to wear, the1r eyes are equally eer1e and dead-look1ng, w1th black sclera and glow1ng 1r1ses 1n a strange shade of blue. the1r tentacles are a dark blue, and near the ends, the 1nk color fades from blue to an odd green. they look...empty.</strike>

<strike>you're d1stracted by the octol1ng's strange appearance, and 1t jumps you and knocks you out.</strike>

your eyes w1den, and you are f1lled w1th an 1nexpl1cable feel1ng of dread. where 1s th1s feel1ng com1ng from?

<strike>you wake up strapped to an exam1nat1on table of sorts. the strange octol1ng stands over you, holding a syr1nge f1lled w1th a d1sgust1ng-look1ng glow1ng green 1nk. you ask what they are go1ng to do to you. they do not answer, 1nstead 1nject1ng the 1nk 1nto your arm. they leave the room.</strike>

<strike>the next few hours are f1lled w1th agony. your sk1n turns green where the 1nk was 1njected, and 1t doesn't stay there. 1t spreads, 1nch by 1nch, and every m1nute 1s torture. you scream unt1l you lose your vo1ce, unt1l, at some po1nt, you stop car1ng. you've res1gned to your fate, or so 1t seems.</strike>

<strike>the fear rema1ns, unt1l the very end, when all emot1on dra1ns away. you struggle to remember why you cared so much.</strike>

<strike>you can't.</strike>

<strike>you black out, and all memory of the encounter - the san1t1zat1on - d1sappears from your m1nd.</strike>

<strike>you wake up, and beg1n play1ng the mus1c. just as you always do.</strike>

you remember.

you weren't always here. you had a l1fe before. you look 1n a m1rror, at your green sk1n and blue, red-t1pped tentacles, and 1t feels wrong. you feel wrong.

you know you can't go back, but you want to. <strike>you want to be free. you want to get out. you can't let go of hope, however l1ttle you have left, and yet you feel 1t sl1pp1ng away, farther and farther, out of reach.</strike>

there's no go1ng back - no f1nd1ng your fr1end - not when you're l1ke th1s.

empty. 

perhaps, you th1nk, you should s1mply k1ll yourself. there's no com1ng back from th1s after all - you're ru1ned, and you'll never be able to return to what you used to be.

the moment you ser1ously cons1der 1t, you feel s1ck (1f that's poss1ble for you at th1s po1nt). the thought of death sounds amaz1ngly bl1ssful, yet at the same t1me terr1fy1ng.

what m1ght the telephone do 1f you d1e?

would 1t sacr1f1ce another octol1ng, put them 1n your place?

you can't be respons1ble for that.

you can't.

you don't want to l1ve, empty l1ke you are. but dy1ng 1s dangerous, not just for you but for any other octol1ng who m1ght fall down 1nto the metro who has the potent1al to take your place.

defeated, you make your way back to the room where you've spent the last three years of your "l1fe".

just keep play1ng the mus1c. just keep play1ng...

**Author's Note:**

> well this is a clusterfuck of a fic with an all-over-the-place plot.
> 
> to be fair, that does fit my interpretation of dedf1sh pretty well, so.
> 
> i might follow up on this, but i doubt it.


End file.
